


In Any Form

by Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Category: Invasion (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-11-09 08:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Szura has tried pitting Tom against Russell, attacking them separately, and brainwashing the masses to turn on them.  So far, nothing has worked... until Szura stumbles upon an unorthodox form of attack that neither the sheriff nor the park ranger know how to cope with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anne-Li (Anneli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anneli/gifts).



> I've had this idea in my head for more than half a year and have finally begun to flesh it out. 
> 
> I'm dedicating this fic to a wonderful friend who shares my interests, and who will no doubt realize where this idea came from. Many thanks to Anne-Li for your kindness, your passion for the very special person whose characters fuel my overactive imagination, and for your friendship in general. I hope that you will enjoy what Russell and Tom get up to in this fic, which turned out to be longer than I originally anticipated, so it has a few more parts to go. o^_^o

Alone, Russell Varon – the despised _park ranger_ – had been trouble enough for Szura, but once he’d joined forces with Sheriff Tom Underlay… Szura had never imagined that his faithful, obedient puppet would ever turn on him. When he’d first befriended – _recruited_ – Tom, convincing him to join his cause in rounding up and guiding the new hybrids of Homestead, he’d found it remarkably easy to misguide and manipulate him. Tom had been so eager to please him, to do _the right thing_ , that he hadn’t once questioned his methods. Whenever Szura had done something that Tom might not have been comfortable with, he had made sure to quickly justify his actions before Tom could become suspicious of them. Szura was smart like that. He had an excuse for everything and a conscious for nothing. And Tom was so endearingly gullible.

 

At least he had been until that idiot park ranger had coerced him into joining forces against his master.

 

Szura glared at the pair of men – his sworn enemies – fraternizing with each other across the street. He had known at first glance that Russell was not a man who could be lied to or bought. But he had never thought that such a simple-minded man would possess the charm to seduce Tom over to his side. Although allegiance was no longer something that Russell seemed to be giving priority to by the looks of it.

 

As Szura watched from his cloaked hiding space between the Homestead Depot and the bankrupted bingo parlor, Russell got out of that crappy jeep of his, which was on the verge of falling apart, and approached the Sheriff’s cruiser that was parked behind his vehicle. And, right on cue, Tom appeared from the driver’s side with a revolting grin on his face, looking at that insipid park ranger as if he were what dreams were made of. Much to Szura’s disgust, Russell presented Tom with a single red rose, playfully brushing it against the sheriff’s cheek before he leaned in to kiss him. Not only had Tom become Russell’s ally after he had turned against Szura, but he had also evidently welcomed the park ranger into his bed. This turn of events made Szura feel sick to his stomach. He was outraged to discover that all it had taken to cozy up to Tom had been a few random acts of kindness, the occasional handpicked rose, and a bunch of intolerable flattery. It made Szura wonder if he had perhaps misjudged his fellow hybrid. Maybe Tom was even stupider than the park ranger, or at least he would have to be to find himself attracted to someone so vapid. What the hell did Russell have that Szura didn’t?

 

Unfortunately, Tom’s romantic escapades with Russell had screwed Szura over in two ways. One was that Szura had lost his right-hand man and control over the Sheriff’s Department. The other was a revolt that was slowly gaining momentum amongst the hybrids that Szura had considered to be a part of his private army. Seeing Tom and Russell frolicking around together in public had given the hybrids the ridiculous idea that they could peacefully coexist with regular humans. If the legal figurehead had no problem with trusting a human with his life and his heart, then surely other hybrids should be entitled to the same opportunity.

_Love._ The word itself made Szura’s innards want to shrivel up and die. He’d been plotting the demise of Russell and Tom ever since they’d fallen in _love_ with each other. At first, he’d been willing to spare Tom due to some unresolved feelings that he’d had towards his fellow hybrid, but witnessing the traitor kissing his nemesis had easily destroyed any thoughts of mercy that may have been lingering in his mind.

 

Szura gripped the turtle shell that he held between both hands – a solicited gift from those who were wiser than them all – and began to recite the ancient words that the orange creatures in the water had taught him. He couldn’t kill either Russell or Tom outright because that would only turn them into martyrs in a war that Szura was on the verge of losing. So, Szura had taken his problem to his creators, communicating the urgency of his plight to the aliens that inhabited the cove. And, after hours of a frustrating mixture of telepathy, gesturing, and mouthfuls of accidentally ingested seawater, Szura had been given the turtle shell relic. It, along with the proper words and genetic samples, had the power to transform both Russell and Tom into the physical representations of their animal spirits. As ludicrous as that sounded to Szura, he was desperate enough to try – or believe – anything. With any luck, Tom would be transformed into a pathetic gazelle and Russell into a clumsy bear. While Szura had brought his shotgun along to legally hunt and kill both animals, nothing would bring him greater pleasure than to see Russell the bear tear apart his beloved gazelle. Wouldn’t that be poetic justice!

 

To further irritate Szura, Russell now had his arms around Tom and was embracing him like he couldn’t care less about the sheriff’s image. To be fair, it was only 5:30am and there weren’t any passersby lurking around the deserted streets, and even law enforcers tended to get all sentimental with their spouses when they thought that nobody was paying attention. Well, screw freedom of expression, love, and the sacrilegious idea of hybrids mating with humans!

 

Szura withdrew the blondish-brown strands of hair that he’d collected from the driver’s seat of Tom’s cruiser, dropping them into the turtle shell that was already half full with a lot of bizarre odds and ends. Pig’s blood, pieces of horsehide, fish gills, and shaved goat’s horn were some of the stranger items that the orange creatures had instructed Szura to add to the magical concoction. Finally, Szura added a bunch of dark brown hair, which he’d yanked directly from Russell’s scalp during a fistfight, and pulled out his lighter to set the whole thing on fire.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come on. It’s still early,” Russell pleaded as he pressed Tom back against the side of his cruiser and kissed the sensitive spot between the hybrid’s neck and ear to get him to comply. Tom shivered in his arms and made a pleased sound, doing nothing to shove him off, but not giving him the answer that he’d been hoping for.

 

“Russ, my shift starts in twenty minutes. We don’t have enough time for _that_.”  

 

“I can make it really quick,” Russell insisted.

 

At that, Tom laughed, which wasn’t something that he did in public often. “You’ve never been able to finish in under forty-five minutes, so I highly doubt that you could do so in half the time this morning.”

 

“Are we talking about the same thing?” Russell asked cheekily. He loved seeing Tom smile or making him laugh. There was no better way to start the day than by sharing a warm kiss with his lover, before trying to work in another make-out session in one of the many secluded spots that they frequented around town. It really didn’t matter that Russell spent most nights sleeping over in Tom’s basement apartment, or that every other night Tom ended up in Russell’s bed, because it was never enough. Maybe it was because their relationship was still only a few weeks old but, whatever the case, Russell just couldn’t get enough of Tom.

 

“You’re never…” Tom stopped midsentence to shut his eyes tightly and grimace.

 

“What is it?” Russell immediately became serious, not liking the way that Tom suddenly grabbed onto him for support.

 

“I don’t know… I just feel dizzy all of a sudden…”

 

Russell was about to suggest that Tom get back into his cruiser and sit down when he was hit by the similar sensation of everything in his line of sight blurring out of focus. It couldn’t be a coincidence for them both to experience the same loss of control over their equilibriums, at the same time. And it wasn’t a mild discomfort either. Everything became skewed and distorted, nearly bringing Russell to his knees the pain was so great, while he struggled hard to hold Tom up who was going through the same agonizing ordeal. Had they been drugged?

 

“Tom… get back in your car,” Russell ordered through the pain and twisting vertigo. He blindly groped behind Tom’s lower back, searching for the door handle, reasoning that they would be safe inside with the doors locked. If they passed out in the middle of the street…

 

For several seconds, everything went black. Russell couldn’t hear, see, or feel anything. It was like he’d been separated from his body and he was floating in a sea of darkness. But it was very brief. When he opened his eyes again, blinking to clear them of any residual static, he was confused to see a small cat lying in front of him. The cat’s eyes were closed and its back was arched, tail waving back and forth chaotically as it mewled in absolute misery. Russell spent plenty of time around animals at work so he was familiar with the sound of a feline that was not feeling well. It was a shame for such a beautiful cat to be making such an unhappy sound. And Russell had never seen a tabby cat so golden or brown before. In fact, the tabby’s soft fur coat was quite an intense shade of golden blonde with thick dark auburn stripes. This couldn’t be a stray cat or some kid’s runaway pet. No, this had to be a pedigree cat that lived in a fancy room with plush furniture, decorated with ribbons and trophies from cat shows. _Rose would love to have such a beautiful cat as a friend for Carlita_. Russell’s daughter was forever fawning over her fat orange tabby Carlita, which was nowhere near as attractive as this blondish-brown one.

 

Russell moved forward, intent on scooping the cat up to bring home to Rose, when he remembered where he was and what he’d been doing. Where was Tom?

 

As if the cat could hear him thinking, it opened its eyes and looked at him fearfully. Instantly, Russell knew that no cat had ever had eyes as intense or as blue as the widened ones that were watching him with disbelief. _Tom?_ What the hell? What kind of drugs had the woman down at the local donut shop slipped into his coffee this morning? There was no rational, or sane, reason for him to think that Tom had been turned into a cat. But, when Russell moved towards the cat, its tail spiked into the air and it began to hiss.

 

Russell stopped, knowing that it wasn’t normal for him to be down on all fours, nor did it make sense for something thick and furry to keep whacking into his backside. And what appeared to be a rather long muzzle was blocking the space between his eyes, forcing him to lower his head to get it out of the way. Okay, wonderful! So he had been turned into a dog and Tom the cat was now afraid of him? What on earth was going on?

 

Russell took another step towards Tom, trying to make eye contact with him to calm him down, but received a fuzzy knock on his nose for his troubles. Thankfully Tom hadn’t learned how to unsheathe his claws yet because the warning strike had been only with his paw, but if the now hybrid-cat didn’t come to his senses soon, Russell would end up with his face all cut up. Bowing his head down to rub his nose against one of his lean muscled legs, Russell was startled to see that it was almost completely black. Shifting to look at his other legs, he noted that they were all black. But what was most shocking was the large puffy expanse of russet tail swishing about his rear. _Shit! I’m a fox!_ No wonder Tom was freaking out over the large predator in front of him.

 

From somewhere nearby, Russell heard heavy footsteps resounding on the well worn asphalt of the narrow town road. At the same time, he smelled gunpowder and something burning. He didn’t need to be able to see what was coming to know that it meant danger.

 

Still trying to get Tom to back off, as well as having little luck controlling the bushy tail behind him that seemed to have a mind of its own, Russell almost caught on too late to the presence that was suddenly upon them.

 

“Well, well. I suppose that this makes as much sense as a bear and gazelle, but I still would have enjoyed seeing you get mauled by your lover.”

 

Russell had a split second to react, instinctively launching himself at the cat when Szura raised his work boot above Tom, intent on crushing him beneath his heel. Russell knocked Tom clear of Szura and sprang back to snap at the evil hybrid, locking his jaws around Szura’s left ankle and piercing flesh and bone with his sharp teeth.

 

“ _Stupid park ranger!”_ Szura shrieked, cocking his shotgun and taking aim at Russell’s face.

 

A fuzzy blur whipped past Russell’s face and attached itself to Szura’s right thigh, hissing and going nuts clawing into the hybrid’s meaty muscle.

 

“I don’t care who dies first, Tom,” Szura shouted, reaching down to grab at Tom.

 

Before Szura could get his sinister hands on Tom, Russell leapt up and snapped at his wrist, drawing blood and keeping him at bay. But he knew that they could only play this game for so long. Szura was the one with the weapon, and if any of the townsfolk were to happen in on this scene, Russell and Tom would be the ones facing a lethal injection. So, using his mouth, but trying to keep his teeth out of it, Russell seized Tom by the scruff of his neck and shook him off of Szura. Once Tom had released Szura, Russell took off in the direction of the nearest alley, racing for it at top speed with a squirming cat in his mouth. He barely made it into the alley before he heard a shot fire from Szura’s shotgun, and a huge chunk of the wall behind him shattered into brick fragment projectiles.

 

At the end of the alley, Russell banked left and sprinted along fences, bounding over garbage cans, and doing his best to avoid stepping into rat traps along the way. All the while listening to Tom mewing helplessly as he was whipped this way and that by Russell’s erratic movements. But Russell couldn’t risk putting Tom down because he didn’t want to become separated from him. And cats were nowhere near as fast as foxes, so Tom was stuck being Russell’s unwilling passenger until he could get them both to safety.

 

Several blocks away, Russell came to a stop beside a parked car, unloaded his burden onto the sidewalk, and stood there panting from the adrenaline surge that he’d just burnt through. He spared Tom a glance when the cat made a funny noise and just watched him as he tried to shake his fur back into place. There was a large patch of fur along Tom’s neck and shoulders that was matted down from where Russell had been holding onto him. And, as embarrassed as Russell was about the whole thing, he had seemingly slobbered on Tom when he’d been gasping for breath. Not unlike other cats, Tom was very irritated to have his fur all messed up and out of place.

 

 _This is so screwed up._ Despite how weird Russell felt about his lover now being a feline, he would still do anything to keep him happy. Even if that meant pouncing on him, pinning him down with two paws on his shoulders, and holding him still as he licked the messy fur back into place. What made it even worse was when Tom started purring. It started off as a mild vibration against Russell’s pink tongue, but soon became so vocal that anyone within hearing range would be able to hear it. With his heart still beating wildly, Russell flattened Tom beneath him and rested his narrow muzzle between the cat’s small pointed ears. Then he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the reassuring feeling of that soft cat purring against him.

 

This had to be Szura’s doing. Russell didn’t know how the sadistic hybrid had managed to pull it off, but he had somehow turned them into animals. Judging by that comment Szura had made back there, he had been hoping that Russell would have attacked and killed Tom after the transformation. That would have left Szura with his hands clean, and devastated Russell to the extent that he would’ve gladly welcomed death. But that’s not what had happened. Russell found himself just as in love with the beautiful tabby as he was with Tom in his hybrid/human form. He would do anything to protect Tom, and something as ridiculous as a furry body and a set of claws wouldn’t change the way he felt about him.


	2. Chapter 2

After Russell had settled himself down on top of Tom for the eighth or ninth time, Tom came to the uncomfortable conclusion that – consciously or not – his lover-in-fox form was scent marking him. It had been difficult to figure out what Russell was doing at first because it all seemed harmless, until Russell began to rub up against his rear. As soon as Tom realized what Russell was doing, he began to swat at his nose to get him off. Although they were both losing themselves to their animal instincts, Tom was not going to put up with becoming anyone’s _territory._

 

Another thing that had begun to annoy Tom was how Russell kept insisting on taking the lead. It would seem natural for the fox to stay up in front because he was nearly twice as fast as Tom, but it wasn’t safe or logical while they were still within the town’s limits.

 

For the third time, Tom rushed ahead of Russell, confronted him head-on, and gave him a good solid whack on his muzzle. But, Russell mistakenly thought that Tom was playing with him and licked up the side of his face in retaliation. Having had his pristine fur screwed up once again, Tom bristled all over and hissed at Russell. _Even in animal form, you can still be incredibly dense._ Tom watched the magnificent russet fox continuing on his merry way, strutting carelessly down the empty sidewalk, and decided to try another tactic.

 

The second that Tom pounced onto Russell’s bushy tail, Russell whirled around in a snarling, growling rage. That was _not_ the reaction that Tom had been going for. Tom shrank back, whimpering with his tail tucked beneath his body in submission. Even in fox form, Russell had a mighty intimidating temper.

 

It took only a second for Russell to regain his senses, approach Tom calmly, and lick a stripe from the top of his head, straight down to the tip of his tail. Tom wasn’t sure how he felt about being licked so often, but he quickly became aware of the way his purring encouraged Russell to do it all the more.

 

Now that Tom had Russell’s attention, he nudged him in the direction of the nearest store window. For once, Russell obediently followed Tom up to the window, probably confused to see their reflections there. One small, lean tabby cat glowing a rich blondish-brown in the rising sunlight, and one crafty reddish fox with black socks for feet. What a strange pair they made.

 

Russell looked back at Tom, his expression questioning and not understanding. But when Tom looked up, Russell followed his line of sight to see the _Homestead Hunting Gear & Supplies_ sign in the window, and then off to the right where a dullish brown pelt hung in the window. Russell barked anxiously at Tom, indicating that he had finally gotten the message. Hunting season was open for foxes and, having forgotten that fact, Russell had been bravely strolling the streets in broad daylight. Russell needed to stop trying to lead and start letting Tom scout up ahead. Nobody except for Szura would shoot a cat on sight, so Tom had a better chance of clearing the way for them.

 

In appreciation of Tom’s concern for his welfare, Russell began to affectionately lick the sensitive spots behind Tom’s ears. And, unable to help himself, Tom began to purr again. The sensation of that sandpapery tongue grazing his fur was so comforting, and Russell smelled really musky, which might have been an offensive odor to other animals that wanted to intrude on his territory, but Tom found it to be alluring. He supposed that it was probably something that only a pair of mated animals would be able to understand.

 

Once Russell was done grooming Tom, he allowed Tom to walk ahead of him, keeping a safe distance behind him. It was still too early for anyone to be roaming the streets, but it wasn’t too early for the baker to be in the kitchen of his bakery, pulling freshly baked pies, cakes, and loaves of bread out of the oven. And did they ever smell good!

 

Tom didn’t have the willpower to resist the commanding aroma of a cooling coconut cream pie, following the scent around the corner and through a back alley before Russell caught on that he was no longer headed out of town. It wasn’t until Tom found himself below the second story window of the bakery that Russell began to yip anxiously at him. If Szura had turned Tom into a cat _after_ he’d had breakfast, he might have been able to pass up on the pie in favor of his own safety, but that just hadn’t been the case. Surely Russell must be hungry, too, especially after all that running around that they’d just done. So, ignoring Russell’s warnings, Tom sprang up onto the fire escape of the opposite building, darted up one flight of stairs, and shot across the alley in midair, landing delicately on the windowsill of the bakery. As he’d expected, the baker had left the window open and the pies along the ledge to cool.

 

There were blueberry pies, cherry pies, apple pies, baguettes, croque-monsieurs, croissants, and premade sandwiches, but the only thing Tom was interested in was that coconut cream pie. He usually picked anything other than the cream pies because they were just too sweet and rich for him, but as a cat it seemed like no other pie would do.

 

Using his nose, Tom began to push one of the coconut cream pies to the edge of the windowsill, looking down a couple of times to judge the distance it needed to cover to land safely in the alley below. Guessing what he was up to, Russell quickly pressed up against the side of the building to avoid being splattered by pie crust or cream upon impact. Tom glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the baker was still busy with the oven before giving the pie a good shove off of the ledge. He watched it plummet to the ground, smack into pavement, and flip upside down. And that’s why Tom left anything related to sports up to Russell.

 

Pretending not to notice the stern look that Russell gave him, Tom got behind pie #2, nudged it up to the runway, and pushed it off with a little less power than he’d put into the first one. The second pie struck the ground solidly – bottom first – cracked down the middle, and caved inwards. But it didn’t flip over or touch the ground so Tom considered it to still be edible.

 

By the time Tom got down to his pie, Russell was waiting with a look of slight annoyance. Russell looked at the first overturned pie, and then back at Tom, probably to indicate what a waste that was. But Russell ought to know that Tom was too hygienic to eat anything that had come into contact with a contaminated surface, so Tom didn’t bother acknowledging the mess that he’d made. Instead, Tom sat down on his haunches and began to lick – not eat – the sweet coconut cream from inside the pie shell. After a moment, Russell sidled up beside him and tried a bite, only to hack it up a few centimeters away. _Foxes must not like pies_ , Tom thought to himself. What could he get Russell to eat? _Meat! Foxes eat meat!_

 

Leaving his pie for Russell to guard, Tom went back up to the bakery’s kitchen, rounded up several thick slices of cured ham that were meant for the sandwiches, and went back to the windowsill to drop them down to his companion. As he was going back for the plate of chicken breast pieces that he’d spied near the fridge, Tom was given the fright of his life when a frying pan went sailing past his head.

 

“Stupid cat! The next thing I’m going to bake in a pie is going to be _you_!” The baker yelled, chasing after Tom with a rolling pin and a butcher knife.

 

Tom made a wild dash for the open window, lost his footing on the ledge, and slipped off. He heard Russell bark in terror down below, and he himself made a horrible high pitched screeching sound, but in midair his tail began to whip about maniacally, forcing his body to align itself with the ground so that he landed on all fours, instead of on his foolish head. He stood there quivering for a moment, his legs trembling from the shock that they’d just absorbed, and winced when Russell caught him by the scruff of his neck again. But this time he was not to be carried like a chew toy. Russell threw Tom into the air, aiming for his back, and growled when Tom clawed at him until he calmed down again. Then, Russell quickly picked up the ham slices with his mouth, dropped them on top of Tom’s delicious cream pie, and picked the whole pile up by the tin pie dish. As soon as he was sure that Tom was secure on his back, Russell raced back to the main street and around the corner, putting as much distance between them and the enraged baker as was humanly possible.

 

* * *

 

 

When Russell had been a child, he’d read many fabulous tales about regular animals that had shown immense courage and strength when confronted with the necessity of rescuing their friends or family. Timid mice would often battle it out with relentless felines, or exhausted horses would drag themselves for a hundred miles, starving and on the verge of death, until they reached their mate. Now, having carried a tin dish in his mouth for nearly an hour, Russell knew that not all animals had been created equal and he doubted that he was hero material. As a human, he’d had superior reflexes, powerful muscles, and keen senses honed from the hard life that he’d led as a youth. And, if that hadn’t been sufficient, he had also been a steady shot with any firearm that he’d handled in the past. But as a puny fox there wasn’t much that he seemed capable of doing. His jaw, neck, and shoulders ached, his paw pads were scuffed raw from running for his life, and there were prickly points on his back from where he’d been scratched by little kitty claws. And every time he tried to stretch out his sore muscles, he almost ended up ejecting the sleeping passenger on his back onto the pavement. How could Tom sleep at a time like this? Were all cats this lazy? Or maybe this was Tom’s new way of coping with stress.

 

As soon as Russell made it to the small children’s park on the edge of town, he padded up to a shady spot underneath a tree, picking an area that was densely covered in soft grass, and dropped the dish onto the ground. He spent the next few minutes trying to work up enough saliva to swallow, and to get the taste of tin out of his mouth. All the while, there was no movement from the cat on his back. Tom was probably curled up back there, enjoying his warm nest in Russell’s thick fur.

 

Unfortunately, they needed to eat their stolen meal and get on their way before Szura caught up to them. They didn’t have time for cat naps or happy picnics. Not like a crushed pie and cream-covered slices of ham without any mustard would make for much of a picnic.

 

Russell sank down into the grass and very slowly shifted his weight to one side, feeling his burden roll off him to land in the grass at his side. He patiently endured the scathing hissing that he received for startling Tom, before gently nudging the cat over to the cream pie.

 

At first, Tom eagerly got into the pie, licking up the coconut cream portion while ignoring the bits of crust. Then, having sensed Russell’s apathetic response to the food, Tom turned back to look at him. The last thing Russell wanted to do was worry his lover, but he was suddenly overcome with a bout of depression so heavy that he felt his eyes begin to water up and his tail begin to dip low to the ground. Why hadn’t he been turned into something more formidable, like a tiger or a grizzly bear? Szura had come inches away from stomping Tom to death and the most Russell had been able to do was bite and claw at his leg. What good was he to Tom in this state?

 

When Russell blinked back his tears to try and reassure Tom that he was okay, he was suddenly hit by the strong aroma of fresh ham by his nose. Looking down, he saw that Tom had come over to him carrying the largest piece of ham in his mouth, before thrusting it up at him. Tom was nothing if not persistent. Russell would have laughed at the comical image of a small cat lugging around a piece of meat that was more than half his size, if he’d been in a better mood. Ducking his head down, he took the ham from Tom and then settled himself deeper in the grass to eat it without much enthusiasm. But… he stopped when he felt something warm and wet on the back of his right ear. Tom was licking his ear and purring softly against it. The combination of both sensations made Russell feel giddy with happiness, which soon turned into the overwhelming urge to mate with Tom. But foxes and cats weren’t compatible that way, at least not to his knowledge, so Russell had to satisfy himself with the purring alone. However, the horrifying events of the morning had apparently left Russell sexually frustrated because the second Tom returned to his _breakfast_ , Russell crept up behind him, pinned him to the ground, and began to rub up against him eagerly. He probably should have felt like a sick bastard for giving into his urges, but Tom just lay there mewing in encouragement with his tail quivering in the air, making it impossible for him to resist. Anyway, was it really so terrible of them to enjoy a bit of intimacy after what they’d just been through? Tom was Russell’s lover, after all, and the rubbing was pleasurable for them both. What did it matter what form they were currently in?

 

It wasn’t until they had finished rolling around in the grass together that Russell reasserted his leadership qualities and got Tom to head back in the direction of the Glades. Communicating in terms of moods and where they ought to go in order to seek sanctuary wasn’t too difficult, but it was now impossible to carry on a normal conversation with Tom, so Russell found himself thinking a lot more than he usually did.

 

Was what Szura had done to them reversible? Was it only temporary or permanent? If it was only temporary, how long would it last before they reverted back to their normal humanoid forms? And, if they were to be killed as animals, would they remain as such at the time of their deaths? Unrecognizable to their closest friends and family members?

 

Russell followed Tom carefully down the street, keeping an eye out for Szura – or anyone else who might want a fur coat made out of fox – and hoping that they would change back before nightfall. During the day, the Glades might be a safe haven from humans, but during the night, it would definitely not be the ideal place for a pair of newly transformed animals to hide out. On any other given day, Russell would have been confident enough to spend the night in the Glades, but not without a fire, the proper equipment and provisions. And, while Tom did possess some pretty strong survival instincts, they most likely would not benefit him as a small helpless cat. There had been more than one case of a python swallowing a cat whole, and that cat had been much bigger than Tom.

 

Shuddering at the thought of anything attempting to make a meal out of either of them, Russell quickened his pace to close the distance between them. They were nearly upon the edge of the Glades and would soon have more than Szura to worry about.


	3. Chapter 3

Had it always been so dark inside the Glades? And had the trees always been _this_ tall? Which plants were poisonous and which ones were safe to eat?

 

Tom hesitated a few meters inside the mess of shrubbery that he’d wandered into, sniffing at a big leafy piece of vegetation curiously, until a rather large black centipede slid down the leaf and nearly touched his nose. Hissing in fright, Tom stumbled backwards and bumped into Russell, who automatically whacked the centipede out of sight with one paw. Tom gratefully rubbed his head against Russell’s side and waited until his lover indicated what they should do next.

 

Everything looked so big and unfamiliar, like the Glades had been placed on a gigantic scale in order to magnify every little detail of it. Plants had been blown out of proportion, insects that ought to be tiny appeared enormous in Tom’s eyes, and he was too low to the ground to make out which way was north and which was south.

 

 _What does poison ivy look like?_ When Tom got shoved away from a three-leafed plant that he’d gotten too close to, he assumed that he’d just found the poison ivy.

 

Having made it safely to the national park that he loved so much, Russell now seemed confident to take the lead, guiding Tom deeper into the darkness and away from the open highway. Tom soon discovered that cats had superior eyesight in the dark, which allowed him to pinpoint things that a human would definitely miss in the diminished lighting. Of course it was common knowledge that cats could see in the dark, but it was difficult to really _know_ what that meant without experiencing it firsthand. He supposed that Russell could also see quite well despite their darkened surroundings because the fox was roaming through the trees with the utmost care.

 

Tom hastened to follow Russell over a particularly large fallen tree, attempting to bound over it with the same power and grace that his lover had, but stumbled over it instead when the sight of a massive alligator lurking on the other side distracted him. He landed in an awkward pile of limbs and tail on top of what looked like a large mushroom, a plaintive meow escaping him before he could swallow it down. And, as if attracted by that sound, the alligator narrowed its glassy green eyes to slits and began to approach him stealthily. Tom attempted to escape the razor-toothed beast but ended up stepping on his own tail in his haste to escape. Now shaking with fear, Tom closed his eyes and tried to will the alligator to turn around and go away.

 

The next sound that Tom heard scared him even more than the sight of that alligator. At first, he mistakenly believed that the alligator was making those horrible growling noises, until he opened his eyes and saw Russell standing guard in front of him like a possessed creature. Russell was alternating between a snarling/growling noise, followed by vicious barks that couldn’t be anything other than threats, all the while blocking Tom from the opportunist of an alligator. At one point, all Tom could see was Russell’s rigid bushy tail as he continued to make one heck of a ruckus in order to chase off the giant reptile.

 

Amazingly, the alligator backed off and began to retreat into the bushes, still keeping its reptilian eyes on Russell since it could no longer see Tom.

 

As soon as the alligator had returned to whence it came, Russell turned to Tom with his light brown eyes wild with concern. He crouched down and began to poke and prod at Tom with his nose, searching him for injuries. Since his back had been turned when Tom had clumsily fallen into a furry heap on top of the now flattened mushroom, Russell was probably imagining that the alligator had been the one to knock his lover down. Even though he wasn’t able to find a mark on Tom, Russell didn’t seem satisfied until Tom was back on his feet, and even then, he insisted on grooming Tom with that relentless tongue of his, intent on making him look presentable again. Only then did Russell give the sign that they were to continue on their way.

 

The trek through the Glades was slow and boring, and Russell kept glancing back every few minutes to make sure that Tom was okay, which actually began to make Tom feel nervous. Tom was not much of a talkative person, but he did tend to enjoy listening to what others had to say, so he was not accustomed to spending hours upon end in dead silence. He couldn’t understand Russell when his lover barked or yipped, or made low contemplative sounds that were only audible to Tom because he was now a cat. And Tom was pretty sure that Russell couldn’t tell the difference between a sad meow and an _I’m hungry_ one, mainly because the last time he’d complained about his stomach, Russell had flopped on top of him and snuggled him like he was consoling a mate. At least they could agree on when it was time for water because Tom found himself constantly thirsty in the sweltering heat of the afternoon.

 

At a hilly incline thickly covered with trees, Russell began to gingerly trot from tree to tree, sniffing and scenting the air. Then, much to Tom’s astonishment, Russell began to _mark_ his territory, moving from one spot to the next, making sure that he was very thorough in closing Tom off into a wide area that was now to be their what? Their _home_?

 

Russell ignored Tom’s questioning look and went straight to the base of a very large tree standing on the hill. Then he began to dig beneath it, shooting dirt, twigs, and stones everywhere. He kept at it for an indeterminable length of time, barking at Tom to stay back when Tom tried to venture closer to help out.

 

When Russell was finished, he stepped back to present their new dug-out den to Tom, which Tom felt determined to stay far away from. It was dark and claustrophobic inside the deep hole that Russell had created, not exactly the type of bedroom that Tom would feel inclined to sleep in. Tom cautiously kept his distance, choosing a nice patch of leaves to settle down on instead. He tried not to pay attention to Russell’s insistent barking, fully aware that the sun was now receding but not seeing much of a difference between sleeping outside the den, as opposed to inside the den. Maybe foxes liked crawling into holes in the earth, but, as a cat, Tom would have preferred to sleep on a roof or inside a tool shed.

 

After a few minutes, Tom began to feel very sleepy, closing his eyes drowsily as the adrenaline and fear lessened, leaving him to a comfortable numbness that pushed aside everything else.

 

The sound of rustling woke Tom up sometime later, causing him to spring to his feet in a semi-alert state, only to catch Russell creeping past him with several plastic bags clamped firmly in his mouth. Were those potato chips? Where had Russell gone? Had he looted someone’s campsite? But, much to Tom’s dismay, Russell took his stash of food up the hill and into the den. Wasn’t he going to share any of it?

 

Russell stalked back down the hill, now with his mouth free, latched onto the scruff of Tom’s neck without any warning, and carried him unwillingly into the den. Once he’d gotten Tom into the den, Russell blocked off the small entrance with his body, and set to work ripping open a bag of cheddar & sour cream onion potato chips. The tiny confines of the dugout made Tom feel unbearably anxious, leading him to pace back and forth opposite Russell with his tail jaggedly waving in the air, until the bag of potato chips burst open, spraying thinly cut potato slices everywhere. A second later, Russell shoved his face into the open bag, ravenously munching on crunchy potato chips and observing Tom with his brown eyes, which were now glowing a reddish-orange in the dark. Tom didn’t need any more invitation than that to spring at the bag opening to claim a good stack of those potato chips for himself. They happily shared the contents of the bag, before chasing down the individual pieces that had gotten away.

 

Next, Russell carefully pried open the resealable green pouch that he’d placed on the ground in front of him, jerking back a bit when a cloud of steam flooded into his face. He eagerly licked his chops as the pleasant aroma of chicken curry on rice filled the air around him. He’d apparently stolen some camper’s freeze-dried dinner, after boiling water had been added to it. But he probably hadn’t considered how he was going to get his big muzzle into the pouch because they didn’t have any eating utensils, not like animals were capable of using a fork and spoon anyway.

 

Tom watched Russell pushing his muzzle into the pouch, hearing his tongue lapping around inside, but not making contact with the actual food. When Russell pulled away with a look of frustration, Tom yanked the pouch towards him with his teeth, overturned it on top of the empty potato chips bag, and spread the chicken and rice out evenly for easy access. Russell’s reaction was overenthusiastic and a bit confusing as he began to pet Tom on the head with his paw. It was an action that never would have occurred to a fox, and also one that was a bit odd for a human lover. But the physical praise made Tom happy, so he didn’t question the meaning behind it, settling down beside Russell to eat up every last morsel of the camping cuisine.

 

Once they had made short work of their hot meal, Russell took the empty bags to the far edge of his territory, dug a hole behind a bush, and buried them. Tom supposed that hiding what was left of the food would protect them from bears during the night. There was still an unopened bag of trail mix remaining at the back of their den, which Russell was no doubt saving for breakfast. But, in all honesty, when Russell had guided them into the Glades, Tom had been expecting his lover to have some sort of plan. Russell knew the wilderness surrounding them like the back of his hand, so why hadn’t he steered them in the direction of one of the ranger stations? Those buildings were always set up for emergencies and would have had a soft bed to sleep on and clean running water to drink. Sometimes Russell acted rashly, doing things without fully considering the consequences of his actions. Tom hoped and prayed that the camper who had been robbed of his dinner wouldn’t hunt them down during the night, and that Russell would show a little more productivity in the morning. Roaming around the pine forests for half the day, with Russell stopping every now and then to sniff things at random, had only resulted in them evading Szura. Nothing more.

 

Tom glanced up when Russell reentered their den, not making a sound as the fox intentionally stretched out in front of the entrance, ensuring that Tom would not be able to sneak out during the night. Tom recognized the challenging look in Russell’s eyes, the look that said that Tom’s feelings towards their current abode were transparent and not to be tolerated. Even as a cat, Tom could not conceal his thoughts and emotions from his lover.

 

Russell was partially curled up, having left a spot open for Tom to make himself comfortable in, which Tom quickly took advantage of. As soon as Tom had nestled eagerly against Russell’s side, the fox’s large bushy tail swept up and over him, blanketing him in a very pleasing furry warmth. Although Tom happened upon a fox in the wild once in a blue moon, he had never seen one in the company of a cat, so he couldn’t be sure if Russell was a little on the large size for his current species. Perhaps everything looked bigger now that Tom was a great deal smaller than he used to be. And, while he was usually alert and active, being turned into a cat had made him crave sleep every hour or so. How long would they have to put up with their current states? It had taken him a very long time to come to terms with his identity as a hybrid, a lot longer than was necessary due to the fact that he’d spent ten years living his life unawares to his _evolution_. There was no way he could adapt to prancing around on all fours while trying not to lose his long sensitive tail to a closing door or something higher up on the food chain.

 

And what about Russell? Cats only lived an average of 14 years, which meant that Tom would lose potentially decades of his natural lifespan if they couldn’t find a way to revert back to their original forms. But Russell… If Tom remembered correctly, foxes only made it to five years of age – max – with a good number of them being hunted down or falling victim to diseases. When Tom had first learned of the harsh and unfair life that a fox was destined to lead, he had felt pity for the poor creature, but he’d never imagined that he would find himself in a situation where he would have to calculate how long his lover – as a fox – had left on the earth. Russell the fox was already fully grown, which made sense considering that he had been a mature adult when changed, so that left him with two or three years at the most?

 

What if Russell contracted one of those parasitic diseases that was fatal to foxes? Or what if he accidentally stepped into a trap and bled out in the middle of the forest? With a reddish-brown coat as bright and attractive as Russell’s, he was bound to catch the attention of a hunter’s keen eye eventually. How could Tom possibly go on if something were to happen to the man that he loved so profoundly?

 

* * *

 

Less than an hour after Russell had dozed off, he was woken up by the faint sound of muffled meowing and the feeling of a damp spot on his side where Tom should have been sleeping. Perking up his ears, he listened intently, trying to figure out why Tom was in distress. Could he have heard something outside? Perhaps one of those nasty foxhounds that Russell had been evading all day. But Tom didn’t seem to be acting scared or alert, instead he was trembling all over and rubbing his face against Russell’s side as he mournfully meowed into the wet fur there.

 

Russell’s head drooped back down onto his forepaws and he exhaled heavily as he came to the only possible conclusion for Tom’s depression. Tom had apparently realized that they could be stuck in their animal forms indefinitely, and then done the math to come up with how long Russell had left to go. A few hours ago, Russell had been thinking the same thing while he’d been sniffing Tom over for injuries. But he’d done a lot more than that, inspecting the condition of Tom’s fur and teeth, along with a careful appraisal of his eyes and physical prowess. He’d disguised the physical examination in the form of a lot of horseplay, but his intentions had actually been quite serious, especially after he’d witnessed Tom’s lack of coordination in front of that alligator. Thankfully, he’d been able to write the incident off as fear related, and not some medical problem that had inhibited his lover’s balance or coordination. Judging by how healthy Tom’s teeth and eyes looked, and the near perfect sleek fur coat that he’d been blessed with, Russell estimated him to be fairly young as a cat. Perhaps four or five years old, which would equate to a human in their 30’s. That would only give him another ten or so years to live, provided that he didn’t get attacked by a dog, hit by a car, or poisoned by the resident cat-hater in town.

 

Russell, on the other hand, was long past his life expectancy as a fox. In another less populated area, he might have been able to squeeze another year or two out of life, but in Homestead he was now living on borrowed time. It wouldn’t be long before something got to him, whether it be something in the ecosystem, or the cruelties of man. He couldn’t leave Tom all alone in the world, forced to fend for himself as a small, cute cat with no experience out in the wilderness, and no concept of survival. The love that they shared, and the bond that connected them, could probably endure anything that Szura threatened them with. Anything except for death. Russell had vowed to never let Tom go so he would do everything in his power to ensure that he lived for as long as possible, as a human or a fox. Although preferably as a human. He knew Tom well enough to know that the death of one of them would be the end of them both. The last thing he wanted was for his lover to die of a broken heart after he was gone.

 

Steeling his emotions so that he didn’t wind up crying alongside the upset hybrid-cat, Russell uncurled his body, lifted his bushy tail off of Tom and came around to nudge him onto his back. Once he’d trapped Tom in that vulnerable position, he lay down on top of him and began to snuggle up against him, mimicking the reassuring cat sounds that his lover had been making to him earlier on in the day. Surprisingly, he did a pretty decent job of sounding like a cat, which did wonders in calming Tom down. When those big blue, tear-filled eyes gazed up at him, and Tom began to meow in response, Russell blinked uncertainly. Could Tom understand him now?

 

 _“I won’t leave you_ ,” Russell promised, nuzzling the side of Tom’s face with his muzzle, watching his lover’s ears begin to twitch when he unintentionally brushed his nose against Tom’s long fair whiskers. “ _I’ll think of something, I promise.”_

Amazingly, the next time that Tom meowed, Russell’s head began to fill with actual words – not cat sounds. “ _You’re supposed to be the expert on the Glades, but you wasted the whole day wandering around aimlessly through here. You could have been shot or--.”_

_“No, I spent the whole day staying out of the path of foxhounds and other dangerous dogs. I wasn’t going to risk heading for one of the ranger stations because Szura could probably predict that we would seek shelter there. And I wasn’t going to take you on a path too close to those dogs. I could possibly protect you from one or two of them, but not an entire pack.”_

_“Is that what you were doing?”_ Tom sounded apologetic, allowing Russell to affectionately lick the top of his head, the tips of his ears, and straight down to the tip of his tail.

 

 _“I’m just curious,”_ Russell said as he licked Tom again to watch his long tail spring up into the air and begin to flick back and forth encouragingly. _“Do you like this?”_

_“I don’t want to,”_ Tom admitted stubbornly, _“But I can’t seem to help myself.”_

 

A few seconds after Tom’s reply, Russell was rewarded with more of that content purring, which drew him closer and back to the nuzzling and snuggling. _“Neither can I,”_ Russell sighed as he settled down on top of Tom to watch his reaction. _“You have the cutest pink nose… and the longest whiskers I’ve ever seen on a cat.”_

_“That’s because I’m not a cat,”_ Tom insisted.

 

 _“Deny it all you want, but these,”_ Russell pawed Tom’s pointed cat ears down, getting him to shake his head in order to free them again. _“These are cat ears. And this,”_ he brushed the tip of his muzzle over Tom’s nose in an approximation of a kiss, _“is a nose that belongs on a cat. Hate it all you want, Tom, but right now you look like an irresistible cat that I want to smother with love.”_

_“That’s probably not what Szura was aiming for,”_ Tom pointed out. _“I highly doubt that he would be pleased to hear that I still love you in fox form, bushy tail and all.”_

That was an undeniable understatement. According to Szura’s own words, he had been hoping that Russell would be turned into a bear, and Tom into a gazelle, which would’ve automatically made them natural enemies – predator and prey. While it was true that a fox was less likely to attack a cat than a bear a gazelle, the possibility still existed under the right circumstances. But Russell was certain that he would not have harmed Tom in any case, regardless of what either one of them had been transformed into. _“This tail is pretty useful. It’s much warmer than a blanket.”_

_“It is,”_ Tom agreed.

_“I just don’t know what else it’s good for during the day. Obviously it helps with my balance, but that’s about it.”_

_“I thought that you were familiar with the behavioral patterns of all the animals in the Glades. Why is it that you know so little about foxes?”_

_Because they don’t live long enough to give much thought to,_ Russell thought to himself sadly. _“It doesn’t matter anyway because I seem to be acting instinctively. If the tail is supposed to do something else, I guess that it’ll do so at the right time.”_ Russell gazed down into Tom’s sleepy blue eyes and nearly pulled off a grin. He’d succeeded in distracting his lover from over-thinking their current dilemma. Maybe they would finally get the rest that they needed in order to feel refreshed and energetic in the morning. _“Do you want to sleep like this? Or do you want to sleep under my tail?”_

_“Like this.”_ Tom’s cat eyes narrowed to slits as he began to give into the urge to sleep. _“I want to be able to see you.”_

_“That works for me.”_ Russell rested his muzzle between Tom’s ears, shifted more comfortably on top of him, and listened to the purring slowly begin to taper down. _“Your fur is so soft and warm,”_ he murmured, pressing his nose deeper into the fur so that he could inhale Tom’s scent.

 

 _“So are you,”_ Tom replied before he gave into the need to sleep.

 

Russell continued to watch Tom for a while in the darkness before he too gave in to a pleasant slumber, with his furry body covering his lover’s, and with the tip of Tom’s right ear in his mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

“Waffles, butter, milk, macaroni and cheese… I’ve forgotten something, haven’t I?” Mariel absent-mindedly pressed the knuckle of her index finger against her pursed lips as she tried to remember what else she’d written down on her grocery list. The list that she’d left lying on the kitchen table – again. Working a double shift at the hospital really did a number on her short-term memory. She had the trunk of her vehicle partially loaded, and was on the verge of grabbing for the paper bag that held the cereal, potato chips, and popcorn, when she heard a disgusted laugh from behind her.

 

“What a freak!”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Mariel turned back to glare at her teenage son, who hadn’t bothered to lift a hand to help her either inside the supermarket or outside in the parking lot. Jesse always had something better to do. Something that involved playing ridiculous cell phone games, uploading goofy photos to some sort of social networking site, or trolling the blog of some kid that he didn’t get along with well in school. Just the other day, Mariel had had an in-depth conversation with her ex-husband over their mutual son’s poor social skills and lack of initiative when it came to helping out around the house. However, thanks to Russell’s attention being completely focused on Tom – Mariel’s second ex-husband – the nagging had fallen on deaf ears. “Now who are you calling a freak?”

 

“Mom, look at this!”

 

At first, Mariel was astonished to see that her delinquent son had gone and torn down one of those _lost pet_ posters from one of the lamp posts in the supermarket parking lot. “ _Jesse_ ,” she hissed, quickly eyeing the immediate area to see if anyone had witnessed her son’s unthinking act. “Put that back! Just because you’re incapable of taking care of a pet doesn’t entitle you to deprive others of the opportunity to give it a shot. To some of the elderly, their pet is all they have.”

 

Instead of showing any remorse, Jesse straightened out the poster to show Mariel what was on it. “You think that even this freak deserves to have a pet?”

 

It was at that point that Mariel caught sight of the contact information at the bottom of the lost cat ad. “Szura?!” That freak was still alive?! Did he deserve to own a cat? He most certainly did not! If his cat had run away… well, good for it! At least now it would have a fighting chance at survival! “Jesse, do me a favor and quietly tear down any others that you find in the parking lot,” Mariel instructed, not feeling at all like a bad mother for encouraging her son’s undisciplined behavior. To hell with Szura and his runaway cat! That hybrid had caused her family more grief than a lifetime of torture could ever repay. “Or, better yet, why don’t we go looking for this cat and give it a second chance at life? What color is it? There isn’t any picture.”

 

“It’s a golden tabby with thick dark auburn stripes and beautiful big blue eyes.” Jesse snickered. “Sounds like Szura is in love with his cat.”

 

“All the more reason to make sure he never gets it back. Stupid bastard,” Mariel cursed. “What’s that in your other hand?”

 

“Another ad,” Jesse said with a shrug. “Also put up by the freak. He officially declared it open season on foxes. He’s offering a reward for a russet colored fox that was spotted inside the Glades…” He glanced back down at the ad to skim through the text and, after a brief pause, he gave his mother a bewildered look of incredulity. “He’s blaming this fox for kidnapping his cat!”

 

Could the world get any stranger? It most certainly could with Szura still moving around in it. “Jesse, why don’t you give your father a call and see if he can’t get off his lazy ass to round up this cat and fox? Knowing that he’ll be sticking it to Szura is probably all the incentive he’ll need to pick up a net and go hunting.”

 

“Can I join the search?” Jesse asked eagerly.

 

“Only if you’ve finished all your homework for this week.” A bit of a trek through the Glades and a good supply of fresh air would probably be good for Jesse, especially seeing as how he wasn’t exactly the athletic type. Mariel supposed that he could do with some exercise and the free time to do some bonding with his inattentive father.

 

* * *

 

 

 _What is that?_ Something was digging into Tom’s back, something that he couldn’t go on ignoring. “Russ?” Tom squirmed on the ground beneath Russell and shivered. Although Russell’s solid weight on top of him was warm and reassuring, the ground beneath him was like ice. Before he’d fallen asleep, he hadn’t noticed all the twigs and stones littering the dirt bed that they’d curled up on, but now he was acutely aware of every prickly shape that was digging into his shoulders, lower back, and backside. He’d have been better off sleeping nestled against Russell’s side with that plump fuzzy tail spread over him like a blanket.

 

“What?” Came a muffled grunt by Tom’s left ear.

 

“Can you shift off a bit? Something sharp is poking into me.”

 

“Give me a sec,” Russell groaned painfully. “My damn leg went to sleep.”

 

When Russell tried to shift his weight onto his other leg, he ended up off balance, and Tom ended up getting crushed by the heavier body that crashed on top of him. All the air was knocked out of Tom in an instant and he lay there gasping in a desperate attempt to get oxygen back into his lungs.

 

“Shit! Sorry!”

 

There was a rough brushing of coarse facial hairs against Tom’s cheek, followed by the telltale poking of an obvious erection between his thighs, before Russell was off him again.

 

“You’re not furry!” Russell exclaimed a split second after Tom realized that he was feeling solid muscle and smooth flesh rubbing against him, and not animal hairs or a hairy snout.

 

“Neither are you,” Tom echoed breathlessly. “But I can’t see anything…”

 

“Yeah, about that… Try not to move around too much. I only dug this hole with enough clearance for a pointy-eared fox. If one of us knocks into the ceiling, the whole thing is bound to collapse and bury us inside.”

 

“That’s a wonderful way of putting it.”

 

“Who cares, Tom?! We’re human again and that’s all that matters.”

 

Tom held his breath and tried to shield his face from dirt and falling debris as Russell began to worm his way out of their homemade den – backwards. Before Tom could shift onto his front to follow, two work-roughened hands reached back in to grab him by his hip and waist, and then he was being dragged out to rejoin the magical stillness of the Glades in the wee hours of the morning.

 

“Russ, let go!” Tom kicked at Russell to get himself released, and then rolled onto his side to begin gingerly removing all those needlelike twigs and other sharp objects from his bare legs and buttocks. “I told you something was digging into me,” he said in annoyance. Much to Tom’s dismay, instead of sympathizing with his discomfort, Russell overeagerly flattened him to the ground again as he attacked him with bold caresses and kisses.

 

“I swear I’ll never take _this_ for granted again,” Russell promised, his passionate kiss breaking off into a wide grin when Tom instinctively pulled him in closer.

 

“You’ve been secretly taking me for granted?” Tom teased. Despite the fact that they were rolling around on the hard ground, which was sparsely covered with grass, it was difficult to stay angry with his lover for long. Russell’s affectionate nature, and his constant desire for intimacy awakened a similar longing within Tom that he just couldn’t resist. Besides, it was easy to forgive Russell for the manhandling after the ranger had swept his soothing hands down Tom’s back, buttocks, and thighs, brushing away all the spiky offenders.

 

“Can you blame me? I expect to have you at my beck and call twenty-four seven. Not being able to touch you and kiss you has been driving me insane.”

 

“Russ, that isn’t taking me for granted. That’s being highly appreciative of my presence,” Tom gently corrected his playful lover.

 

“Contradict me again and you’re going to be in a lot of trouble,” Russell threatened, the tips of his fingers beginning to graze Tom’s ribs.

 

“Okay, you win! Russ, don’t!” Tom struggled against Russell, desperate to get away from what was bound to be an exhausting bout of tickling, because the ranger delighted in getting him to loosen up, even if it meant making him lose all composure.

 

“You’re cute when you’re terrified of being tickled,” Russell praised, beaming down at Tom like a man who had just found the most beautiful object on Earth to gaze at. “It’s taking a hell of a lot of restraint for me not to go to town on you.”

 

Part of Tom felt a bit remorseful for that unusual show of restraint, but the other part of him that feared what Szura was capable of was grateful for it. “We have to assume that Szura intended for us to revert back to our human forms,” he reminded Russell, as if anyone needed to be reminded that everything Szura did was steeped in evil intentions. “He must have had a purpose for us ending up like this in the middle of the morning.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” Sounding doubtful, Russell firmly placed both palms on Tom’s chest, and leaned down to rest his head there. “Because he couldn’t have known that we’d be able to communicate with each other as animals. Why would he let us change back, allowing us to run off and call for help?” Before Tom could answer, Russell made a curious sound as he listened for a heartbeat. “As a cat, your heart rate was a lot faster.”

 

Tom shivered when Russell pressed a kiss to his breast bone, not doing anything to stop his lover from moving up to seal their lips together in another hungry kiss. He nearly lost himself to the sensation of Russell’s hot tongue probing deep inside his mouth, as well as the enticing hard pressure of the ranger’s erection rubbing against his inner thigh. He knew what Russell wanted, and he longed to just lie back and welcome the ranger to do whatever he pleased, but the fuzzy auras that he sensed along their peripheral area prevented him from doing so. As a fox, Russell’s senses may have been keener than his own, but as a hybrid, Tom could often feel things that the ranger couldn’t. The auras didn’t seem human… and Tom wasn’t getting the usual vibes that he did when a hybrid happened to be nearby, so what did that leave?

 

“Russ… will those foxhounds, or other attack dogs that you mentioned, continue to pursue us now that we’re no longer animals?”

 

Russell paused, on the verge of kissing Tom again, to vaguely reply. “I don’t know, Tom. It depends on whether or not they were trained to attack people in the first place.”

 

“Could you please give me a definitive answer? Because we might be surrounded by them.”

 

Almost immediately, Russell was on his feet and taking up a defensive stance in front of Tom. The image of a muscular, naked adult male readying himself with his fists held high, and his erection fading fast, should have looked absurd in the middle of the forest. But to Tom, he had never seen anything more lethal or serious.

 

“If they’ve got us surrounded, then you’ve got your answer,” Russell said in a deadly tone. “Our scent as humans must be the same as when we were animals. Tom, listen to me, I’ll try to hold them off for as long as possible, but if one of them gets within striking distance, go for the eyes or throat. Don’t wait for it to do the same to you.”

 

Was Russell insane? Tom didn’t know the first thing about fending off a single violent dog attack, never mind an entire pack! They were defenseless and weaponless, as well as completely exposed. They would be extremely lucky if they managed to take out even one of those highly trained hunting dogs. “Dogs can’t climb trees.” But, even as the suggestion left his lips, he realized that Szura was more than capable of sniping them out of a tree from a distance.

 

“Getting trapped in a tree is the last thing we need right now,” Russell agreed with Tom’s unspoken fear. “Do you see that path over there?”

 

“Which one?” Tom tried to follow Russell’s line of sight but found it difficult to concentrate when his heart was racing at a mile a minute and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Those dogs would tear them apart before they made it anywhere near whatever path Russell was indicating.

 

“The heavily used one with all the broken twigs along it. When I give the signal, you’re going to run for it. And whatever you do, don’t stop. There’s a lake at the end of the path. Get in it and stay underwater until I come for you.”

 

One of the many things that Tom loved about Russell was the fact that the ranger always loved to selflessly play the hero, almost as much as Tom found his role as town martyr inescapable. “I’m not going to leave you to fight them alone,” he protested.

 

“And I’m not going to survive witnessing you being taken down by one of those vicious beasts,” Russell retorted angrily.

 

“I may be gullible but I’m not an idiot, Russ. You won’t last a second against one of those dogs either. You think that your sacrifice is going to buy me enough time to make it to that lake?!” Tom just about shouted back at the stubborn man that he’d had the pleasure of falling in love with. “If you die out here, I’m not even going to bother doing anything to save myself.”

 

“Are you for real?!” Russell shouted back, his wild brown eyes and furious expression displaying some of that uncontrollable temper that he was notorious for. “You’re going to play some Romeo and Juliet bullshit at a time like this?!”

Usually, an outburst like that would’ve been enough to intimidate Tom into complying, but not today. Life without Russell would not be worth living, of that he was absolutely certain. Tom had gone through enough suffering in life already without needing to have his lover taken from him. Losing the one person who had helped him to heal, and who continued to bring love and joy into every moment that they shared together, would destroy him. “Either we both make a run for it, or neither of us makes it to that lake,” he said with a conviction that made his stomach turn. Would he die for Russell? As surely as Russell would give up his life for him. But did he want to picture himself mauled by a sharp fanged canine? Not so much…

 

For a moment, it looked like Russell was going to curse Tom for being an obstinate hybrid, or physically shove him in the direction of that path. He continued to glare at Tom for a few precious seconds, while Tom sensed the dogs beginning to close in on them. Was Russell really that eager to throw away his life? Just as Tom was on the verge of panicking, a strong hand closed roughly on his upper arm and he was yanked in the direction of the yet to be seen lake. “RUN! DAMMIT!” Russell shouted, tearing off for the break in the trees, his hand not leaving Tom’s arm as Tom ran alongside him.

 

What should have been an incredible feeling of exhilaration turned out to be a jolt of mere terror as Tom sprinted through the trees with Russell a half pace behind him. He felt vulnerable running naked along the soft dirt trail, with the crisp morning breeze touching him in places that he would never have voluntarily exposed to the world. If Szura were watching him now…

 

“FASTER!” Russell hollered in desperation, despite the fact that he was falling behind Tom who happened to be the better sprinter.

 

Reacting to Russell’s aggravated tone, Tom made the mistake of glancing behind to see how close the foxhounds were. At first, his brain had some difficulty registering the larger, lean, sleek black creatures that were quickly gaining on them, until he realized that those weren’t foxhounds. The foxhounds were further back, behind the three snarling Dobermans that were speeding after them, thirsty for blood. They would never make it to that lake!

 

All of a sudden, Russell yanked Tom off of the path that they were on, guiding him to higher ground. Their sudden detour only threw the dogs off for a second before they were back in hot pursuit. Had they had a greater distance to cover, they would have been dead already.

 

Just when Tom thought that the burning in his lungs had become unbearably painful, and he was on the verge of slowing down, he was slammed into from behind. He had only an instant to appreciate the view from the ravine above the lake, before he was sent plummeting into its icy depths with Russell splashing in beside him, a meter or two off to one side. The shock of being submerged in such an unpleasant icy bath stunned Tom, delaying his natural instinct to find the surface in order to escape. If the water had been warmer… but it wasn’t. His hybrid DNA enabled him to cope with remaining underwater for long periods of time, but it did little to ease the discomfort brought about by such low temperatures.

 

Proving himself to be the star athlete that he modestly claimed to be, mainly while they were in the middle of making love, Russell was ploughing his way to the surface, having no doubt that Tom would do the same.

 

Shaking off the effects of the cold water, Tom began to follow Russell up towards the light, his strokes cleaner and more efficient than the park ranger’s. Even with a head start, Russell was no match for Tom when it came to phenomenal aquatics. However, as Tom neared the surface, his arms started to weaken as his lungs ached for fresh oxygen. _It’s only been less than thirty seconds…_ , Tom thought to himself, trying to force himself to subdue his emotions in order to concentrate on functioning underwater as a hybrid, and not a human. Only, the striped furry legs clawing clumsily through the water no longer belonged to either a human or a hybrid. And the flailing tail behind him was propelling him off to one side instead of upwards. Two separate thoughts simultaneously flooded into Tom’s mind – one was that he had been transformed into a cat again, and the other was that he was drowning.      


End file.
